On Idols and Not-So-Idle Thoughts (Part II)

Gynecologic Oncology – it was what I had dreamed of doing for ten years. I had spent a summer working in that field, and lost a loved one to ovarian cancer, so this wasn’t idle fantasy. The very reason I had chosen to do my ob/gyn rotation at this distant hospital was because it was home to one of the leaders in the field, and I desperately wanted to work with her.

I did get that chance, and it went well. Embarrassingly, we have nearly the same build and haircut, so on the day that I worked her office, multiple staff members noted, loudly and repeatedly, that we looked like twins. Just what this renowned surgeon wants to hear, I cringed, that she looks like a lowly med student. It was especially awkward for me because I had previously stated to family and friends that I wanted to be this woman, and here it looked like I was imitating her. Of course, she had no way of known about my prior reverence for her, so she probably didn’t view me as a creepy stalker. Another student told me later that she had actually spoken highly of me. (Yay!)

I did like gyn onc. But I still wasn’t sure I liked it enough to endure four years of the ob/gyn residency necessary to get there. So maybe, as Tay gently suggested, the important part for me was the oncology, not the ob/gyn. I had loved peds onc; in fact, I had often caught myself fantasizing about my career in the field, only to reprimand myself: You can’t do that, you’re going to be a gynecologic oncologist, remember? What’s more, I felt sure that I would enjoy the years of the general pediatrics residency that would precede an oncology fellowship. I loved the kids. I loved the parents - dealing with them, calming them, explaining things to them. I loved that the medicine incorporated all of the body systems, rather that just one as was the case with ob/gyn. And the more time I spent in gynecologic surgeries, the more I recognized that my favorite part took even before the anesthesia was administered: talking to the patient, explaining the procedure, answering questions.

On the surface, then, it might look like a simple decision. But I spent nearly the entire rotation torturing myself with endless ruminations and unanswerable questions. If I wasn’t going to be a gynecologic oncologist, then who was I? How well did I know myself? What else had I been wrong about? (And having been wrong, in and of itself, wasn’t my favorite thing.) My soul ached. I felt like I was failing. I felt like I was losing my identity. I felt like I was letting people down.

It took many long talks with family and close friends, as well as a good hard cry one night as I drove back home for the weekend. Through the rain I picked out the sign for the cemetery where one of my favorite people in the world, the one whose life was claimed far too early by ovarian cancer, is buried. Through my tears, I realized, finally, that choosing a different field and abandoning my personal vendetta against the disease that stole her away, would not be letting her down. She would probably even be proud of me for wanting to help kids with cancer… and for figuring out what I really want and going after it.

One other factor eased my decision. Last summer when I attended a medical writing workshop, I met a physician-writer whom I came to greatly admire. She had written a book chronicling her experiences in med school (sound familiar?), and it was one of the things I read at night to try to distract myself from my daily worries.

I enjoyed her stories and related to many of them. Then I came upon the chapter describing her decision of whether or not to go into Ob/Gyn. What, now? I knew that this woman was a pediatrician; had she once been less than sure about her path?

In a word, yes. I read faster and faster in disbelief as she gave words to the turmoil that raged inside me. She, too, had imagined a career helping women. She, too, liked parts of her ob/gyn rotation (truthfully, I think she liked more than I did). And yet, she, too, yearned to have a career with slightly more flexibility in order to allow her to develop her blossoming writing career. And she, too, agonized over the decision, lamenting the confusion she felt about her very identity and even admitting to questioning whether she wished to practice medicine at all.

Today, this woman is a successful pediatrician, wife, and mother, and she is also one hell of writer. And from the bit of time I spent with her, she’s an incredible person. And a happy one.

So I have a new career path and a new idol to go with it. I also feel a new sense of in-tune-ness with myself and what is important to me in life. I finished my ob/gyn rotation successfully and set up my fourth-year schedule with lots of electives in pediatrics. And I haven’t felt that knot in my stomach since.